


Crowley's Turn

by RussianWitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Demon Dean Winchester, Don't copy to another site, Felching, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rimming, Rough Sex, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 12:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: Crowley takes advantage of a sleeping demon Dean.Inspired by a discussion on FB.





	Crowley's Turn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilyAnson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAnson/gifts).

> not beta'd

In his sleep, the demon looks like good old Dean, much like Crowley remembers him from years past. He’d make quite a sweet picture if it wasn’t for the bottle of Jack he’s cuddling, or the signs of copulation littering the rest of the bed. 

Crowley pulls the bottle out of Dean’s lax grasp marveling at how deeply the demon sleeps. The human version would have jerked awake as soon as Crowley opened the door, possibly earlier. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Crowley gives the sheet bunched around the former hunter’s waist a tug baring him fully to his greedy eyes. His hands itch with the urge to trace the history written in scars across Dean’s skin, to taste the remains of every wound, every hurt he can read under the tanned skin. 

Dean shifts in his sleep, rolls onto his back, pull up a knee, and his thighs fall open exposing him fully. 

Crowley bites back a gasp, worried the former hunter will wake and find him—drooling. It would be embarrassing, to say the least, and Dean demon or not would never let him hear the end of it. 

He flicks his fingers against the nearest ankle; Dean twitches but doesn’t wake and that, that’s more temptation than Crowley cares to resist. Just to be sure, he pinches a nipple, flicks the nub with his nails, plucks at it when it tightens into a little peak he can knead until it turns dusky and Dean moans in his sleep  _ but doesn’t wake up. _

“Well, well, well,” Crowley mutters releasing the swollen nub, shivering when Dean makes a protesting sound in his sleep.

Standing to take off his jacket is almost too much to bear, but with Dean sprawled there like a sacrifice he needs a little more moving room.

Rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he goes back to the bed and the feast it holds kneeling at the former hunter’s side trying to decide what he wants first.

Still thinking, he trails his fingers through Dean’s hair and along a sharp cheekbone down to plump lips that fall open as his finger ghosts along the seam of Dean’s mouth.    
He’d love to stick his cock between those lips, slide into the hot mouth, fill it completely and push further into the tight throat. Crowley imagines listening to Dean choking on him, going purple as he runs out of breath smothered by Crowley’s cock. He’d love to stroke Dean’s throat to feel himself under the skin and muscle until it’s almost too much for both of them.

It’s too soon for that, Crowley knows; there is still the risk of Dean waking up unexpectedly and there is something to be said for delayed gratification too.

He strokes the muscular chest shivers as his fingers run over the protection rune that pulses strangely against his fingertips, little S.O.S. signals going nowhere down to the unmolested nub that has tightened up in sympathy with its twin.

Crowley circles the areola with the tip of his finger to watch it tighten further then traces the edge of it with his tongue circling it over and over until Dean squirms from the sensation. 

“Easy, darling,” Crowley whispers against the plump nub sucking it into his mouth moaning at the taste of sweat and skin on his tongue. 

He moans at the taste sucking roughly, scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh and sinking them in deep.

Dean’s moan echoes around the room. 

Crowley pulls off the teat with a pop and glances down as he catches his breath delighted to see Dean’s cock has risen to attention, swaying slowly as Dean wiggles looking for the return of stimulation. 

Pinching both nipples roughly, Crowley watches Dean arch into the painful touch, his cock twitching and arching against Dean’s belly. 

“Should have known you’d be a little masochist,” Dean mutters to himself in delight, sitting up to undo his trousers and freeing his aching cock.

Dean’s hand slides over the bed groping around until it hits Crowley’s knee to claw at it ineffectually as the sleeping demon slurs something Crowley can’t decipher.

He catches Dean’s hand, wrapping both their hands around his cock for a couple of strokes. Dean’s hand is too loose around him, but warm and a little sweaty, nice enough to fuck into, a nice tease he can indulge in before getting on with the rest of the party. 

The hunter mutters in his sleep, his free hand rising to his chest rubbing at a sore nipple, pluck at it ineffectually until Crowley helps him out sinking his nails in and twisting, then raking his nails along Dean’s flanks leaving thick welts rising on Dean’s skin.

Swallowing the hiss of pain from the former hunter comes naturally, so does shoving his tongue into the sleep lax mouth.

He’d wanted to do that for ages: taste and take and own.

Once he memorizes how Dean’s mouth tastes, Crowley works his way down tasting and teasing until Dean is sobbing and groaning in his sleep, reaching for his cock and moaning in disappointment when Crowley bats his hand away and nuzzles at Dean’s pubic hair breathing against the base of Dean’s cock until the former hunter’s hips jerk up seeking more.

“Patience, puppet,” Crowley chuckles and scrapes his teeth over a sharp hip bone.

He slides between Dean’s legs, sturdy, muscular thighs yielding as Crowley pushes them wide to make a space for himself.

The bed was a mess when he came in, so Crowley isn’t surprised by the stickiness on Dean’s inner thighs are marred by shadows of bruises coming in.

A wave of possessiveness crashes over Crowley, his hands dig in until Dean groans and twitches like he’s about to wake up, and when he lets go the imprints of his hands cover the bruises strangers left on  _ his _ hunter.

He grabs a pillow, shoves it under Dean’s ass.

Spreading the ass cheeks, Crowley curses with surprise at the sight of an already ravaged hole lube and  _ come  _ welling at the rim as Dean bears down when Crowley’s breath tickles his hole. 

“Why you little  _ whore _ ,” Crowley breathes, dragging his tongue through the mess.

He’d thought Dean was only shagging women not getting shagged and not even having the common courtesy to offer Crowley a turn.

Now, now he knows better his cock twitches at the prospect of sliding into the loose, come-filled hole. With a growl, Crowley buries his face in the sleeping demon’s ass probing the lax asshole for more of the mess until Dean is sobbing in his sleep, twisting and trying to get away from Crowley’s insistent tongue. 

Crowley lets him escape eventually, ducking away from a flailing leg as Dean rolls over to grind his dripping cock into the mattress.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Crowley growls, shoving a pillow under Dean’s belly so he’s humping air, only the tip of his cock dragging against the sheets in a frustrating tease, groaning in frustration, eyes moving under closed lids wildly.

“Sleep, petal, we’re just starting,” Crowley hisses letting his power roll over the prone demon, pushing him back into a deeper slumber.

Once Dean is incensed and pliant again, Crowley return's his attention to the former hunter’s defiled ass. His hands itch with the urge to leave imprints of his hands on both cheeks, but a spanking would wake the other demon. His cock gives a painful throb reminding Crowley he’s been awfully unselfish.

When the head of his cock bumps against the slutty ass hole, Crowley finds both of them shivering. Pushing his way into Dean’s hole, even in it’s used state, takes effort. Crowley almost bites through his lip working his way in half inch by a half inch, going cross-eyed as Dean clenches around him like a vice moaning into the pillow.

“That’s it, petal,” Crowley pants against Dean’s back, licking the sweat off the sleeping demon’s spine. 

Pulling out almost hurt, Dean’s body clings to him, the demon whines into the pillow he’s chewing on raising his ass, following Crowley’s cock as it retreats.

“I should film this, darling,” Crowley pants, his hips stuttering as Dean lets out a happy whine at the invasion.

The thought of showing the footage to Dean at some later date, preferably where his brother is watching too almost has Cowley spilling himself prematurely. He hangs on by the skin of his teeth, icebergs and moralizing angels in his thoughts to cool his ardor as the former hunter’s passage clings to his cock like a bespoke glove.

The world, as corny as it seems, falls away. Like someone hit the mute button on everything outside of the hotel room, only their breath, Dean’s needy moans and the squelching of the mess that comes bubbling out of the hunter’s ass with every one of Crowley’s thrusts.

It seems natural to lean over the former hunter’s broad back, to kiss his way up to the nape of Dean’s neck to slow his thrusts into a gentle rocking that could go on for ages. 

Crowley has no idea where the impulse comes from, this saccharine need for sweet and slow-the Winchester goody-goody urges coming through possibly through osmosis.

He bites down hard, snapping his hips forward, drives himself into Dean’s pliant body until the former hunter’s cry of release is smothered in the pillow he’s been chewing.

“What’s the fu…” Dean slurs waking from the spell, his body tightening around Crowley as the former hunter tenses for a fight.

“You fucking bastard!” He growls twisting and bucking, trying to get Crowley off his back.

“I’m going to kill you for th—,” the threat turning into a moan as Crowley moves inside of him, snaps his hips forward and makes the former hunter scream and come again howling his denial yet grinding back onto Crowley’s cock.

“What was that, darling?” He hisses with a manic grin, “I didn’t quite hear…” gathering all of his strength to catch and pin Dean’s hands in the small of his back. 

There are advantages to being n senior demon, powerful as the former hunter is, Crowley is still stronger. 

Twisting Dean’s arms higher onto his back, Crowley shivers in delight at the pained moans and moves driving his cock in deep, chasing his own release. 


End file.
